


Why Does Soonyoung Have to Call It "Spank Bank"?

by seventeeners



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Pining, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 10:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10304444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventeeners/pseuds/seventeeners
Summary: Wonwoo’s spent a good part of the last three months hiding his hard-on for fellow bandmate Junhui, up to the point where even trying to jerk off has him imagining Jun's face. Eventually, one night his fantasies are too good for him to resist.AKA that one wonhui masturbation fic that somehow ends in sex, y’all know how this goes.





	

Having what might be a crush—a big, gay, super-crush—on his fellow _male_ bandmate is one thing. Being attracted to him to the point that his dick seems to have a mind of its own the second he so much as looks Junhui’s way is something entirely worse.

Wonwoo wakes up with a muffled curse, dick half-hard and sweat trickling down his back beneath his loose T-shirt. Another night, another wet dream, and of course, it only makes sense that his wet dreams all have to feature one person in particular. He’s glad that he’s an atheist, because if he was religious he’d be sure God hated him for some reason.

He breathes heavily in the darkness, the silence of the room almost deafening in his buzzing ears, waiting for the heat to subside. He can only hope that none of the others that share the room with him heard him making any embarrassing noises; it’s happened before, but then again, he lives in an apartment with twelve other hormonal boys, and hearing sex noises is not even close to some of the shit he’s had to deal with in the past. Still, it’s not great to have his sleep-moaning be the topic of everyone’s amusement the next morning at breakfast, and it would be even worse if he somehow accidentally called out Junhui’s name in his dreams.

He’s better now, calmed down and a little cooler under the covers, but his dick is not going limp anytime soon. It stays stubbornly at half-mast, every slight shift he makes making it rub against the fabric of his pyjama pants until he stifles a groan.

This isn’t working—this hasn’t been working for three months now, these torturous three months since he started to realize that his usual mental archive of masturbation-material faces (what Soonyoung gleefully calls the “spank bank”, which is terrible, and to his relief his dick seems to agree somewhat) condensed into only one Chinese face in particular, tanned and chiseled and overwhelmingly handsome. And of course, that meant it had been three months since he last jerked off, because—again—it’s one thing to realize he’s crushing on his admittedly super attractive bandmate, it’s quite another to jerk off to said bandmate and then have to face him the next day and act like nothing’s wrong.

But this isn’t helping him in any way. And not regularly jerking it like he used to (like _any other healthy twenty-year-old,_ he thinks bitterly) is starting to affect him. He’s getting stressed out way more than usual, feeling more irritable, getting way more sensitive to Junhui’s innocent touches. And Wen Junhui is a _touchy_ man, freely swinging his well-defined arms around shoulders or casually resting his hand on someone’s thigh. Since they’re the same age, and they’re close—relatively—that means Wonwoo is usually the victim of these “casual” touches, and they make him want to scream.

Fuck it.

He hesitantly feels for his dick through his pyjama pants, squeezing lightly at the outline and opening his mouth to let out a silent gasp, hips shifting on the mattress. Jesus fuck, he’s so sensitive after three months. He tries to take it slow, just casually feeling himself up until his dick gets harder and harder, until finally he slips his hand down his pants and grasps the base of his dick for real.

The difference is astounding—his hips actually buck up into the air a little, blankets rustling, as the blood rushing down to his crotch boils beneath his skin. He attempts to start off slow, just grazing the tips of his fingers gently along the length of his dick, but all that accomplishes is making him twitch from the sensitivity of it all, a whimper leaving his mouth.

And just like that, he realizes in an instant that there’s no point trying to make this go slow—he’s far too hopped up after his three months of self-control, these past ninety days or so of libido building up to uncontrollable levels. Someone else in the room—Mingyu, maybe, or Hansol—turns in their sleep, and he remembers the predicament of his current situation. He falls to his side, facing the wall just in case, and struggles to slide his pants down to his thighs. His dick is aching already, and he can feel precum beading out of the tip and probably making a mess on his sheets, but he can’t bring himself to care.

The moment his hand wraps around his cock, his mind is already falling on Junhui. It’s weird as hell and awkward as hell and—he imagines it’s Junhui’s fingers, dark and graceful and slender, tickling its way up his dick and he actually _lurches forward_ from the intensity of the fantasy, an overwhelmed little moan escaping him.

From there, he can’t hold back at all. He curls up into the fetal position, hand pumping his dick and imagining it was actually Junhui doing the deed. Why was he so worried about this like what the fuck, daydreaming of Junhui jerking him off is _awesome._ His thumb brushes over the slit just the way he likes it, just the right amount of pressure, and he’s whimpering a faint “Junhui, f-fuck,” before he can stop himself. Oh god, saying the name makes it _so_ much better.

Every movement he makes—his harsh, ragged breathing, the slick sound of precum-slick fingers slapping against skin, the slight squeak of the mattress every time his hips jolt and drag along his sheets—all sound way too loud in the darkness of the night. He turns his head to bury his face into his pillow, hoping he’ll either muffle his half-moans of Junhui’s name or maybe asphyxiate himself before someone ends up waking up. He pretends it’s Junhui whose fondling his balls and teasingly brushing against his asshole, whispering Junhui’s name reverently into his pillow-sheets with a whine.

“A-aagh, Jun,” he sighs under his breath as his hand returns to his dick, going back to the teasing light touches from before, just running his fingers slowly up and down the shaft until both his dick and his lower body are twitching with the desire to come. “Ah, _fuck,_ oh-ooh-hh …”

He can feel the end coming near, rising higher and higher, tighter and tighter. He adjusts his grip around his dick and moves as fast as he can, imagining Junhui putting that tight ring of fingers around him, imagining him whispering in his ear. He’s not sure what Imaginary Junhui is saying because he has a horrible imagination, but he’s sure that whatever it is, it’s dirty and sexy and he’s probably at least 85% into it.

“Hh …. Hhhh … o-oh fuck, Junhui, J-Jun, please, pl—aa-aahh, _please_ —”

Junhui is a teasing little shit, so he’ll definitely stop right at the base, ring tightening even further until Wonwoo is deprived of his orgasm. He sobs a bit too loudly when he does so, hands trembling with the effort to stay still and to make sure that none of the others are stirring after all the noise he feels like he’s making. Junhui is a tease and a kinky fucker and definitely has some sort of weird sex-superiority domination thing going on, and he surely won’t start moving until Wonwoo is crying and begging beneath him.

“Please, Jun, please,” he whispers into the pillow, hips rolling desperately, half-humping against the mattress so his dick can feel some sort of blessed friction. “Fuck, o-oh god, oh _god_ Jun please let me come let me come _please._ ”

 _“Okay,”_ he imagines Junhui cooing, can imagine him pressing a kiss by his ear. For a moment, he’s so far gone he thinks he _does_ feel a faint pressure against the side of his face, and that just makes it all the better. _“Okay, baby, since you’ve been so good for me.”_

His hand begins to move again, actions jerky and harsh and a bit too rough, but holy fuck does he need this right now. His hips shift as best as they can in this position, trying to fuck into his own fist. His moans and little crying whimpers are starting to get louder now no matter what he does, so he wriggles the free hand he’s got trapped between his body and the bed and carelessly stuffs a few fingers into his mouth in an attempt to gag himself. He imagines it’s Junhui’s fingers curling between his lips, a breathless command to _“Suck”_ making him whine and lave at his own fingers with his tongue. His fingertips are calloused from playing guitar and sensitive, and it adds a whole new level of pleasure.

When he comes, it’s with Junhui’s grinning face in mind and a broken cry that still manages to voice itself around his fingers, hips canting desperately as he comes in long white stripes. He had definitely been building himself up far beyond what he’s capable of—he comes for what feels like forever, fist milking himself for all its worth, and he doesn’t stop until his hips are twitching and he’s whining quietly from oversensitivity just the way he likes it, removing his hand and wiping it clean on his ruined sheets. He then wriggles his pants back on properly and rolls onto his back, spends a couple minutes to catch his breath.

Well, he did it. He finally committed himself to the inevitable and jerked off to Junhui. He doesn’t regret it now, but he’s sure that tomorrow, when he’s locked in a dancing studio with the man for hours on end, having to watch the graceful rolls and thrusts of his hips and the sharp movements of their latest choreo, he’ll regret it enough for a lifetime.

 

Four and a half weeks later, and Wonwoo is still regretting it.

The thing with deciding that one of your closest friends is the most ideal subject for the spank bank (ugh, he hates Soonyoung so much) is that it’s better when you _aren’t a fucking idol and have to be around him 24/7._ They drive to all their schedules together, they practice together, they eat together, they fucking live together. There’s nowhere for Wonwoo to escape. The only privacy he gets from Junhui is when he’s sleeping or in the fucking bathroom, and even then there’s always the terrifying chance that Junhui decides to forgo their usual lineup and insist on sharing the shower, which he knows will only end in tears and a raging boner.

He understands this almost immediately, and has once again put himself in masturbation purgatory in an effort to be less awkward around his crush. It works—sort of—but once again, the stress of the job and sensitivity and desire for release is building back up in him again, making him wince every time Junhui decides to play with the hairs on the back of his neck while they’re watching TV, or increasing his anxiety when his singing doesn’t turn out as well as he wants.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be, he thinks miserably as they return home from the Pledis building. Maybe for as long as this stupid infatuation lasts he has to swear off touching his dick, go on some sort of sabbatical or some shit until he can’t take it anymore and lets himself have one night of relief, be awkward around Junhui for several days, and then go full-on Dick Prohibition again until he repeats the cycle and loses the only means of sanity and destressing they get as full-time idols. That seems to be like the only logical explanation in order to keep functioning in this group.

“Wonwoo-yah,” a voice says somewhere behind his ear, and he shivers and jumps when he recognizes who the voice belongs to. He turns around to see Junhui himself smiling at him, hoodie hiding his black hair. Wonwoo has never seen someone look this hot in sweats before, but of course Junhui does. Of course he does. The universe hates Wonwoo and wants him to thirst after a goddamn supermodel. “You’re a mile away, earth to Wonwoo.”

“Sorry,” he says, looking around in surprise. They’re about a block away from their dorm, but none of the other members are walking with them. It’s just him and Junhui. “Where is everybody?”

“Jesus, you really are out of it. They left, remember? I think Seungcheol took a bunch of them to watch some movie that came out last week, and the others went out to that tteokbokki restaurant for dinner, and then they’re all meeting up for karaoke, so we probably won’t see them for the next couple of hours.”

“Wait, what the fuck, why didn’t you tell me? I wanna go to karaoke too. Come on.” Wonwoo makes a one-eighty and starts to head back the way he came to get on the next bus, but Junhui grabs his arm in a vice-like death grip and spins him around again.

“But I don’t feel like it,” Junhui sing-songs. “Don’t you want to keep me company?”

There’s a catch in his tone, Wonwoo thinks, a strange sharp, rough edge in his words that he doesn’t understand. Everything he’s saying is light and casual and nothing out of the ordinary, but Wonwoo can feel his stomach swooping in response, nerves heightening, an anticipatory little twinge in his guts. Maybe it’s the hand currently wrapped around his forearm, preventing his escape.

“I mean, fuck no?” Wonwoo snorts but doesn’t bother trying to wrench himself free. Junhui is stronger than him and running away now will only make things more awkward between them, so he lets Junhui lead him the last couple of steps to their dorm building without any fuss. _You have to be normal,_ he reminds himself frantically, even as they step into an empty elevator and he becomes hyperaware of Junhui’s presence, eyes following a bead of sweat as it drips across his temple and down the sharp edge of his cheekbones. _No matter what, you have to act like nothing is wrong._ “Dude, I wanna eat tteokbokki and sing karaoke. What do I have waiting for me at home, you and a couple of instant ramyeon packets?”

“Which is _clearly_ the better choice,” Junhui laughs as the elevator lands on their floor with a soft _ding_ and they step out into the hallway, the slowly setting sun dying the room orange.

He’s going to have to keep his cool all fucking night, Wonwoo internally sighs, as he fishes for his key in his backpack. Junhui will no doubt wanna watch a movie or something, and he always gets cuddly as fuck when watching movies, and Wonwoo’s going to have to close his eyes and breathe deep and count to ten or something to keep from popping an embarrassing hard-on and creating an unprecedented disaster. “Oh please,” he shoots back, fumbling the key until it finally slides into the lock and turns. “You should’ve taken the opportunity to have the place to yourself, do whatever you want. God knows when that’ll happen again.”

It’s a sort of dream amongst the boys, and one that they all frequently lampshade without shame. It’s something like a gift, to be able to have the freedom and space to jerk off or finger themselves or essentially do whatever they fucking want and be as loud as they want without having to worry about someone overhearing them or walking in on the situation. They’ve all had that taste of freedom at some point throughout both their trainee and idol years, and it’s genuinely cathartic to be able to moan without restraint and not have someone bashing their fist against their bedroom door to tell them to shut up.

Junhui laughs, but the sound is low, and as Wonwoo opens the door and steps inside to take his shoes off, Junhui leans in close to him and says, “Or, we could take the opportunity to do whatever we want _together._ ”

Wonwoo’s eyes widen and he turns around with a choked sound of shock halfway up his throat, nearly tripping as he stumbles backwards. Junhui’s eyes are on him, careful and shockingly dark, a _look_ on his face that instantly makes Wonwoo’s dick throb in the confines of his jeans.

“Come on, Wonwoo,” Junhui says, slamming the door shut behind him as he kicks off his sneakers, eyes never leaving Wonwoo’s face. “We both know this was a long time coming.”

“Did we?” he squeaks, and when Junhui takes a step forwards towards him he takes a step back, feeling cornered and caged and also _really, really turned on._ “I-I mean, I don’t know what you’re, um, talking about.”

“No, I think you do,” Junhui says casually, and doesn’t seem at all put-out that Wonwoo keeps increasing the distance between them, keeps shuffling backwards every time he moves closer. “Unless you’re trying to tell me that avoiding me, looking at nothing but my lips when I talk, staring at me when I eat popsicles, getting hard when you’re watching me dance, are all nothing at all and I’m just delusional.”

Ah, fuck. He noticed. “Oh my god.” He nearly bashes his ankle against a corner of the wall and fumbles a little, Junhui staring at him with a look like he wants to eat him up alive. He wasn’t expecting this. He is so here for this—why the fuck wouldn’t he be—but he didn’t expect Junhui to return his attractions and he isn’t ready for this to happen _right now._ “What—what—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I kinda wanna see what happens with this. I’m saying that I like the way you look at me, and that I look at you the same way. I’m saying that I wanna see how cute and red your face gets when I suck your dick.” Wonwoo makes an embarrassingly loud, high-pitched noise, legs trembling just from the imagery of it. Junhui sees this and laughs low and dark again. “I wanna hear you moan my name. I wanna see you crying when I’ve got my dick in you, all tight and hot and wet, pressed right up against your prostate, and I wanna make you come until you can’t anymore.”

“Oh fuck oh fuck,” Wonwoo chants breathlessly, hands slapping blindly at the door he’s backed himself into. It gives way into his very own bedroom. Somehow, he had walked backwards all the way here, practically leading Junhui to his den of inappropriate thoughts and wanking material. He can’t believe this is happening. His dick is ridiculously hard already just from a little dirty talk, straining in his boxers and jeans. “Oh-hh-h fu- _uck._ ”

Junhui groans at that, a rough sexy sound that makes Wonwoo’s thighs clench. “Yes, just like that. Good, you’re already warming up.” He shuts the door behind him and pulls off his hoodie, leaving himself in a white tank top and sweats as he stalks Wonwoo towards his bed. “I’m planning on fucking you until you lose your voice, so it’s good for you to get those vocal folds loose.”

“Holy shit,” Wonwoo whines as Junhui closes the distance between them and tightens a hand around a fistful of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s a mash of teeth and lips and tongues and is almost gross in how messy it is, but Wonwoo is boiling hot and dizzy when they pull away from each other, stumbling backwards into his bed until he’s lying back against the mattress and Junhui crawls over beside him, wedging himself against the wall.

They kiss a little more, Junhui leading them into something smoother and deeper. Wonwoo just follows his actions and lets his face get manhandled, lets Junhui tug at his hair and massage his jaw to angle him just where he wants him, helpless as he drinks in Junhui’s taste. This is fucking happening, Jesus fucking Christ, he’s got his wet dream fantasy right here in the flesh, on the bed where he jerks off and where he imagines this exact scenario playing out. Never mind whatever bullshit he was whining about before, God and the universe must finally feel some sort of pity for him, they must be throwing him a bone (pun intended) for all his good behaviour on this earth.

Junhui’s hands eventually begin to wander, sliding appreciatively along Wonwoo’s arms before eventually making their way closer and closer to his crotch. They’ve only just started undoing his zipper when Wonwoo moans weakly at the faintest of pressure against his dick and grasps Junhui’s wrists. “W-wait, wait hold on, hold—”

Junhui’s hands still, but he looks impatient. “What?”

“This, I-I mean, I’m just really sensitive right now, okay?” He flushes a bright red at the way Junhui is looking at him, at this whole ridiculous situation, at everything. “It’s been a while since I last had sex, and I um, I haven’t really been, uh, touching myself recently, so um—”

“Why the fuck not?”

He makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat. “It’s weird to, b-because I keep thinking about _you!”_

Junhui stares at him for a moment before a smile slowly spreads across his face, wicked and terrible and so fucking smug. Yep. Weird superiority domination kink, Wonwoo got this one right on target. “Oh, really?” he says, his voice unapologetically gleeful and flirtatious. “You’ve been thinking about me a lot, have you?”

“Yes, okay? Fuck. So I stopped jerking off because it made me weird around you and now I’m really sensitive so I need you to n-not—” Junhui’s hands slowly undo his zipper, carefully applying pressure in all the right places to his aching cock, and he stumbles on his words, “—n-n-not do shit like this, you asshole.”

“Yeah, I’m not listening to you. I’m still thinking about you thinking of _me_ while you jerk off. Take off your clothes, I wanna see you do it.”

Wonwoo scowls at him but does as he’s ordered, tossing off his sweat-soaked T-shirt first and shivering as his nipples begin to immediately pebble in the air conditioned room, then wiggling his way out of his jeans and boxers. His dick is embarrassingly hard, an angry red and slapping up against his stomach with each movement as he tosses his clothes somewhere to the side. “Do what? Jerk myself off?”

“Yes. Maybe. No, wait, I thought of something better. Tell me how you imagined it.”

“What?”

“Go on. When you were pumping your pretty little cock to the thought of me, what were you thinking of? What was I doing to you?”

He shivers at the eagerness in Junhui’s voice, heavy with promise, and lies back on his side to look at him. “Well, u-uh—” he loses his train of thought when Junhui’s hand travels lightly up from his thigh towards his abdomen, just casually stroking his skin. “Um, I was like t-this.”

“Fetal position? Dude, you’re boring.” Junhui cackles as he trails his fingers closer and closer to his crotch before moving away again to scratch at his navel, making Wonwoo bite back a groan. “I really hoped it was you on your back, feet planted on the mattress, bucking those gorgeous hips up as you fucked your own fist.”

He closes his eyes and takes a quick breath to steady himself as Junhui’s fingers tangle in the small dark curls of his pubic hair, pulling slightly. “Well too bad, it was like this, okay? I don’t like jerking myself off like that, I feel too—vulnerable.”

“Ah, so you’re a little prudish.” Junhui hums, eyes trained squarely on Wonwoo’s leaking dick. “That’s kind of hot, actually.”

“Fu—” Junhui’s hand wraps around him without warning and Wonwoo’s body instantly seizes up, the rest of his words coming out in a high-pitched squeal, “— _uu-u-uck you!”_

Junhui just laughs, his grip so loose it hardly provides any friction at all, slowly dragging it up from the base of Wonwoo’s dick. It’s so slow, so torturous, that by the time he reaches the top Wonwoo’s hips are already shaking, his face buried in his pillow to muffle his moans.

“Stop that, I want to hear you.” He doesn’t move until Wonwoo complies, reluctantly turning away from the pillow. Only then does Junhui’s fingers very lightly press against his slit and Wonwoo instantly cries out, body hunching in on himself from the pleasure.

“Fuck!” he whines, as Junhui’s thumb rubs insistently at the tip until precum smears its way all over the bed and Junhui’s hand. “Fuck, fuck, Jun, just like this, I imagined you _just like this,_ please, I need to— _god,_ I need you to—”

“Stop curling into a ball,” Junhui says with a laugh, his free hand trying to pry Wonwoo open; he’s curled inwards, Junhui’s arm trapped between his knees and his chest. Junhui’s blunt, dull nails rake ever so gently across the shaft of his dick and Wonwoo fucking wails, hands shooting up to grab desperately at Junhui’s firm arm, muscles shifting and contracting beneath his hands.

“Please,” he chokes out, frantic, “don’t tease me, I need you to—I need to come _right now_ —”

“But I can’t even see your pretty cock like this, Wonwoo. I can’t see how red it is, how wet you’re getting for me.” He moves to pump him a few times, each stroke making Wonwoo jump and buck with a wet moan.

“No no no, I can’t, I _can’t._ ”

He huffs out a sigh, although Junhui looks plenty pleased with himself, brushing at Wonwoo’s sweaty bangs and taking in the sight of Wonwoo’s entire body twitch every time his hand moves. “Okay, just this once.”

He tightens his grip and begins to jerk Wonwoo off in earnest, and Wonwoo can’t stop the halting moans and cries spilling out of his mouth, curling in harder around himself in response to how responsive he is. His hold on Junhui’s arm gets so tight he wonders if Junhui might complain, but he doesn’t, instead he shuffles closer so he can get a better angle, hand moving faster and faster around his shaft. He’s not going to tease him this time, which Wonwoo can’t decide is a blessing or a curse. He can feel tears pricking his eyes from just how _much_ he’s feeling right now, how good Junhui’s hand feels, how much he wants to come, and it’s far _far_ too soon when he feels the tightness pooling in him ready to snap. He only manages to gasp out, “C-coming,” before he seizes and jerks and begins spurting out ropes of cum, Junhui’s hand not letting up until he’s gotten every last drop out of him and Wonwoo has to push him away, whimpering at the oversensitivity.

Junhui sits up and gently unfolds Wonwoo from his fetal position, moving him to lie on his back as he struggles to catch his breath. His chest, stomach, thighs, and even his arms are streaked with cum from his previous position, something Junhui seems to enjoy. He licks cum off of his fingers thoughtfully, raking his eyes up and down Wonwoo’s naked, sweaty body with hungry appreciation, and that action makes Wonwoo bite back a whimper and his soft dick starts to twitch in obvious interest.

“Back at it already?” Junhui leans down to lick at the cum on Wonwoo’s thighs, making him tremble and whine. “You really _are_ sensitive, fuck, that’s so hot. How many times do you think I can get you to come before I finally fuck you?”

Wonwoo groans in response, or maybe it’s because Junhui’s lips and tongue are getting progressively closer to his dick. “You’re gonna kill me. I just know it. I’m going to literally die from sex tonight.”

“It’s a good way to go.” Junhui dips down to slide his tongue against his slit, and Wonwoo howls and his hips snap up into him, hands grasping for something, anything to hold onto, to ground himself in reality.

“Jesus, Jun, I literally _just_ came—” Junhui does it again and Wonwoo’s eyes nearly roll back into his head. He grabs two fistfuls of Junhui’s hair to pull him up, thighs twitching and chest heaving. “I’m serious, fucking _don’t,_ I can’t take it.”

“Okay, okay. You’re being very spoiled right now, but I’ll let you call the shots for today.” Junhui moves up to plant a kiss on Wonwoo’s jaw, trailing a wet line down his neck and back up again. Wonwoo tilts his head back and sighs, eyelids fluttering from the sensation. “What do you want me to do, baby boy? Go on, tell me.”

 _Baby boy._ Oh, that’s new. Wonwoo groans at the nickname, unaware that this was a thing he enjoyed. “Just—just gimme a minute,” he pants.

Junhui does just that, taking this time to pull off his tank top and mark a trail of hickeys along Wonwoo’s neck, not stopping until Wonwoo is trembling and crying out, hips jerking against the rough fabric of Junhui’s sweats until Junhui is grinding down on him, a promising erection tenting in his pants. Even when Wonwoo clutches at his bare shoulders and tells him he’s ready, please, just touch him already, Junhui thoroughly ignores him and continues grinding down and biting at the skin along his jawline.

“Jun, come _on!_ ” Wonwoo groans.

“I thought you needed a minute,” Junhui hums as he leans down to press his lips against one of Wonwoo’s nipples, making him arch his back with a tremulous moan.

“I’m good, I’m _good,_ fuck, please, just fuck me already!” Junhui sucks down hard, teeth scraping, and Wonwoo arches even harder, dick hard and rubbing almost painfully against Junhui’s sweats. “Fuck, please _fuck me!”_

Junhui growls deep in the back of his throat and gives him a deep, bruising kiss before leaving the bed for a moment to rummage through Mingyu’s things on the other side of the room, pulling out a half-empty bottle of lube in triumph. Wonwoo grimaces at both the thought of Mingyu and the thought of how much of that lube he had put to use, but when Junhui pulls off his sweats and briefs on his trip back to the bed Wonwoo decides he doesn’t give a shit anymore. Junhui’s dick is long and thick and desperately hard, and his mouth waters.

“Shit,” he croaks out, “can I suck you off?”

Junhui grins down at him. “That sounds amazing, but I can’t wait any longer. Spread your legs.”

Wonwoo does as he’s told, too far gone to feel any shame. Junhui busies himself with planting little bites and hickies up and down the soft inside of his thighs, groaning happily every time Wonwoo’s legs twitch.

“So fucking hot,” Junhui mumbles against his skin, and Wonwoo hears the unmistakeable pop of the lube’s cap being opened. “Jesus. Just look at you. I could fucking eat you right up, baby boy.”

Wonwoo’s head falls back against the pillows as he moans. “Fuck, Jun, I-I really like when you call me that—” One of Junhui’s slim fingers prods at his perineum, slowly circling around the tight ring of muscle against his hole and pushing only enough for it to start to give. He does a full-body tremble. “ _Fuck._ Jun, please go faster.”

“I dunno,” Junhui bites at his thigh, teeth worrying gentle marks into the flesh, and Wonwoo’s hips jerk with a choked-off gasp when Junhui very slowly slides his lube-slicked finger about halfway into him. “You’re just so _cute_ like this, baby, how can I just give you what you want without teasing you a little first?”

“Y-you’re such an asshole,” Wonwoo wheezes as Junhui doesn’t even bother going all the way in, instead pressing two fingers into him halfway. He wriggles under his sheets, hands grasping at his blankets in an effort to grab hold of something. It burns and stretches delightfully, but it’s not enough, it’s not _deep_ enough, it’s good but wholly unsatisfying. “I _knew_ you’d be like this, I knew you’d be a fucking dick about it—”

Junhui leans down to suck Wonwoo’s cock into his mouth, and his complaints are cut short with an embarrassingly loud howl, pelvis instantly jumping up to try and fuck himself deeper into Junhui’s mouth. Junhui doesn’t allow that, of course he fucking doesn’t. His free hand pushes him down easily, pins him there, and goes at it at his own damningly calm pace. He doesn’t really suck Wonwoo’s dick so much as just let it rest in the hot, wet confines of his mouth, occasionally swirling his tongue around the tip just so he can feel Wonwoo squirm.

“I h- _hate_ you!” Wonwoo chokes out, straining against Junhui’s firm grip. He’s got his dick in someone’s mouth but it’s not getting sucked, and he’s got two fingers up his ass but he’s not getting finger-fucked. It’s disappointment and dissatisfaction on both ends, and it’s hot and feels so so good but it _sucks._ “You’re the worst, f-fuck!”

Junhui hums out a laugh, the vibrations making Wonwoo’s toes curl and back arch, and then his lips wrap properly around Wonwoo and he drops his head deep to suck him in earnest, fingers shoving themselves right up to the knuckle at the same time. Wonwoo practically _screams._

The pace doesn’t let up, and Wonwoo can barely get a grasp of the situation anymore—his vision is swimming before his eyes, nothing in the world existing except for the two points of pleasure, his dick hitting the back of Junhui’s throat and the fingers currently fucking into him. He can’t even pay attention to what’s happening; when he feels a slight burn and thinks Junhui’s managed to push another finger inside of him, a sudden harsh suction against the tip of his dick distracts him fully from confirming it. Junhui’s fingers are long and unrelenting, slamming sloppily around his prostate but never hitting it directly. That might be a good thing. Wonwoo’s so tightly wound up right now that he thinks one good prod against that bundle of nerves and he’ll snap, way too quickly.

“I’m good,” he manages to cry out, sobbing when Junhui swallows around his cock and his fingers curl against his walls, “I’m _good,_ Jun, oh god please fuck me _fuck me_ fuh-fuck!”

Junhui’s fingers immediately disappear, which makes Wonwoo keen at the loss, hole fluttering distressingly at how empty he feels. Through the haze of his lust-addled brain, so close to orgasm, he can hear the slick sounds of Junhui lubing up his dick.

“N-no condom?” he asks weakly. Junhui surges forward to kiss him, lick into his mouth, one hand rubbing comforting circles into the dips of his hip bones and the other running a finger lazily up the length of Wonwoo’s cock to feel him twitch.

“Both clean, aren’t we?” Junhui mumbles into his mouth. Wonwoo can feel the head of Junhui’s dick pressing insistently against his hole, and he moans and shifts, trying to wriggle himself closer, trying to get it fucking inside him already. “Wanna feel all of you wrapped tight around my cock, baby. Want _you_ to feel my cum nice and hot inside of your needy _cunt._ ”

“Oh-hh-h _fuck_ yes,” Wonwoo huffs, totally on board. Junhui gives him one last kiss before sitting back, adjusting Wonwoo’s quivering legs so he’s in a better position. He inches himself in, and Wonwoo wants to scream because _holy shit Junhui is big._ Not like, Mingyu-big, but he’s long and fat and Wonwoo thinks he’s about to start drooling, oh god, he can’t be patient anymore he wants this entire thing in him right now.

“F-fuck, Jun, please, all the way in—I’m okay, you ba-bas-bastard I’m _okay,_ please for the love of god just—”

Junhui shifts into a better position on the bed and, with one hard thrust, slides fully into Wonwoo. Wonwoo isn’t prepared even though he asked for it to be fast, Junhui’s dick just going deeper and _deeper and deeper_ and when he’s fully seated, balls-deep, that one good thrust slams him squarely against Wonwoo’s prostate.

And just like that, he’s coming, completely untouched.

Neither of them are expecting it; Junhui’s hips still and he watches, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, as Wonwoo’s face screws up and he writhes on Junhui’s dick, desperate little “oh-ohh-oh!”s falling out of his mouth as he spurts cum all over himself and Junhui.

“Jesus,” Junhui breathes, running soothing hands along his sides as Wonwoo gasps for air, “Jesus _fuck_ Wonwoo, that was so fucking hot. Oh _god._ ”

Wonwoo knows coming twice in one setting is his limit, but he’s stretched so tight around Junhui’s dick and he’s drunk off the feeling, dizzy with the sharp pleasure and pain of oversensitivity and the brief stirring in his gut that he’s not satisfied yet. “K-keep going.”

“You just came, Wonwoo, are you fucking crazy?”

Probably. Very likely. Anybody would be, he thinks weakly, if they had Junhui’s dick up their ass. “Just fu-fucking do it.”

Despite the scorching heat of his wavering self-control in his eyes, the intensity and sheer domineering presence he had when he went after Wonwoo all this time, Junhui looks a little unsure. His hips slowly begin to move, stuttering its way into a smoother, crawling rhythm. Each drag of his dick against Wonwoo’s walls makes Wonwoo’s entire body pinch like tiny little needles, too much but also not enough but _too much._ He rakes his nails down Junhui’s arms with a sob, tears filling his eyes, even as he tells him to keep going, don’t stop, it feels so good.

Junhui leans down to kiss him, lips soft as he continuously slides in and out of Wonwoo at that maddening pace. He’s shaking from the effort it’s taking to hold back, to not fuck the living hell out of Wonwoo, but he keeps that rhythm as firmly as any musician might until Wonwoo can feel his dick hardening again and he starts fussing beneath Junhui, wriggling and pulling at his hair.

“Faster,” he mumbles against Junhui’s clavicle, canting upwards in an effort to increase the pace.

“You sure?”

“Please, god dammit!”

Junhui lets out a breathless laugh. “I dunno, baby boy. Now that you want me to, I suddenly feel like staying like this a little while longer.”

“Jun, dammit, stop being an asshole and just _do it!”_

Junhui’s hips stall completely, leaving Wonwoo crying out and whimpering in his arms. He bucks up into Junhui as much as possible but can’t do much in his position.

“I’ll fuck you,” Junhui says, out of oxygen and flushed and his voice harsh and sinful, “when and how I want it. Do you understand me, Wonwoo? I will _fuck_ you—” he accentuates his words with one sharp thrust, making Wonwoo howl, “—as fast or as slow as I want. Baby boy can’t give orders, understand? If baby wants cock, he’s going to _lie there_ —” he slams his hips forwards again, “—and _take it_ —” he does it again; the force of it this time actually makes Wonwoo scoot up the bed a little, as he chokes and desperately grabs for something to hold onto, “—like a _good_ —” this thrust manages to hit him right against his prostate and Wonwoo _sobs,_ tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks from the overwhelming sensitivity of it all, “— _little_ —” Junhui would feel sorry if he could but all he can think about is how tight Wonwoo’s walls are hugging his dick, how cute he looks squirming around and crying like this, “— _boy._ ”

He really likes the way Wonwoo begs, but he certainly isn’t expecting just how _receptive_ Wonwoo is over his dirty talk. Wonwoo’s back arches so hard Junhui’s scared for a moment that he might pull a muscle somewhere, stubby fingernails scrabbling against the hard planes of his chest and abs, heaving with the force of his moans and cries.

“Yes, yes _yes!”_ Wonwoo weeps, dick already leaking precum all over himself. “Please, Jun, _please,_ I’ll be goo— _unghhh_ —good, oh please, ba-baby boy will be _good!”_

“Holy shit,” Junhui whispers, and he’s not sure if his cock can get any harder than it is now. He wastes no time in hoisting Wonwoo’s legs over his shoulder so he can lean in closer, so the stretch is more pronounced. Wonwoo wails at the first thrust, the sound degenerating into a long, drawn-out moan when Junhui doesn’t stop, when he pistons up as hard and fast as he can, the moan only broken by Wonwoo’s own hiccups and cries and choked gasps for breath. “Holy _shit,_ baby boy, you’re so fucking hot. What a good boy, taking my cock so _well_ —”

Wonwoo’s starting to drool, his own sounds of pleasure making it impossible for him to swallow. It’s so hot, Jesus. Junhui’s hips stutter into an even faster rhythm, almost punishing, nearly lifting Wonwoo’s bottom half up as he leans forward to corkscrew into him.

It’s too much, has been too much the entire fucking time. Wonwoo doesn’t have the energy to move, can only lie bonelessly against the bed as Junhui fucks into him, until his legs start going numb and his dick _hurts_ and his throat is dry and cracking and oh god, he needs to come _so bad._

“J-Jun—” he cries, “I need to—I’m gonna—”

Junhui leans in even closer (stretching Wonwoo’s legs as he moves his torso until Wonwoo’s knees are practically touching his chest and his dick is hitting him even _deeper,_ good fucking god) to press fluttering wet kisses against his mouth, his chin, his jaw, his neck. “Go o-on, baby,” he grunts, not letting up his thrusting for even a second, “Come for me, such a good boy.”

It’s almost like he had subconsciously been waiting for permission, because the moment Junhui’s hand reaches down to stroke him a few times Wonwoo hiccups and comes, harder than the two orgasms he’s already had. Junhui fucks him all the way through it, continuous pressure against his prostate making his steady stream of cum last longer, so long he thinks he might never have to jerk off again. He actually has to blink spots from his eyes, dazed and weak. Now he _really_ is sensitive, and it’s almost torture as Junhui lets go of his dick and pounds into him for a minute or two longer before he too comes, with a fucked-out, deliciously dirty groan right in his ear.

It’s quiet for a moment, no words spoken between them except for harsh breathing. Junhui eventually slides his softening dick out of Wonwoo (he lets out broken whimpers at the sensation, whole body shivering) and disappears for a moment to clean up, returning with a roll of toilet paper he probably stole from the bathroom to wipe off the drying streaks of cum all over Wonwoo’s body.

“You came so much,” Junhui says, and his tone almost makes Wonwoo laugh. It’s so _conversational,_ so casual, as if he didn’t just fuck Wonwoo’s brains out minutes before. “You’ve been holding out on me. Why did I waste so many years on pornos when I could’ve been watching _you?”_

“Gotta—” his voice is utterly wrecked, he has to wait until Junhui props his head up and gives him a few sips from a water bottle before he can get the words out halfway coherent. “Gotta pay me first, asshole. I’m a top q-quality porno.”

“Clearly, you are. And speaking of assholes,” one of Junhui’s fingers very lightly brushes against his sensitive pink hole, and Wonwoo instantly shudders, trying to crawl away from the sensation with a weak moan, making Junhui grin, “how’s yours holding up?”

“Forget my ass,” Wonwoo croaks, “it’s my _dick_ that hurts. I think it’s got its own fucking heartbeat now.”

“Poor baby.” Once he’s all cleaned up, Junhui carelessly tosses the toilet paper roll aside and gingerly gets the blankets out from underneath Wonwoo’s limp body and places it over him instead, before snuggling under the covers with him. “Just warning you, though, if you only came that much because of your weird self-imposed masturbation exile or whatever, I might consider only fucking you once every two months. That was _hot._ ”

Wonwoo’s so fucking exhausted it’s not even funny. His eyelids droop as Junhui drags him closer, the head radiating off his body lulling him into sleep. “Keep fucking me like that and it won’t be a problem.”

“Yeah?” Junhui hums out an amused noise, tucking Wonwoo into the space beneath his chin and pressing a kiss in his hair. “You want this to be a regular thing?”

Of course he does. Fuck. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Junhui chuckles quietly as if he knows Wonwoo’s bullshitting him. And as Wonwoo’s eyes shut and he starts fading out of consciousness, he thinks he can feel Junhui kiss his head one more time and whisper, proudly and affectionately, “Good baby boy.”


End file.
